


Let's Start With The End

by sweaterbarnes



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Sexual Assault, Beta Angie Martinelli, Beta Peggy Carter, Dehumanization, Discussed Mpreg (briefly), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hospitalization, Hurt Steve Rogers, I swear, M/M, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega Steve Rogers, PTSD, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Torture, Unwanted Advances, as in Steve and Bucky still fight in the war, just trust me, nightmares(mentioned), no that isn't a tagging mistake, only slightly canon compliant, that's pretty much all that's the same oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweaterbarnes/pseuds/sweaterbarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hydra takes Steve hostage and, in an effort to create the perfect heir to HYDRA, makes Steve an Omega and forces him to bond with the Red Skull. This is the story of his homecoming, his transition from hell to purgatory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Start With The End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueManta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueManta/gifts).



> Please, please read the tags. I don't want anyone to be triggered, please be careful.
> 
> Title from [The War Was In Color](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDgHT-5SdAw) by Carbon Leaf. The link goes to my favorite Steve fanvid that uses the song(which is how I first discovered it).
> 
> EDITED 2/14/2017 (extra backstory in the comments if you're curious)

~~~~~~

One mission gone wrong. A simple take-down and get out. That was it. One misstep and there Steve was, half-conscious and in Hydra’s clutches with no  escape plan. He hadn’t even been able to radio in his coordinates before they found him, hiding in the dark. Fuck.

~~~~~~

Bars confined Steve to the hard, metal chair; covering his chest, arms, legs, and head. No matter how much he shifted or tried to detach them from the chair they stayed put. He was the one to blame for the chair, he had brought this upon himself. He had resisted one too many times, pushed his luck with fists. He couldn’t complain too much, though. Compared to the room he had kept him before this was a soft, luxurious bed. Only the sound of his ragged breathing echoed in the cold, dark room; filling the empty corners and ringing in his ears. His captors had been gone for hours but the pain remained as his body struggled to heal itself of the wounds they had inflicted. His clothes were stiff with blood, new and old, and he could swear that the chair was beginning to rust. The food, if it could be called that, had stopped coming days ago, along with the visits from strange guards with sharp tools and questions which became more and more infrequent until they had stopped coming altogether two days ago, leaving him completely isolated in this cramped space with only his thoughts to keep him company.  A key turned in the padlock, breaking through the layers of silence that had fallen over the room, and bright light spilled into the room from the hallway, forcing Steve to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid being blinded.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Rogers,” said a nasal German voice from somewhere behind him. Steve twisted in his seat, craning his neck to try and get a good look but the man was too far back. The light that hung above Steve’s head clicked on and a dark brown suit entered the corner of Steve’s vision. He tracked it as the owner of the suit walked around the chair to stand in front of him. Steve had always thought Zola was oddly small for a Hydra agent, with a large forehead and thin lips that stretched into a discomfiting smile, making his small, beady eyes crinkle at the edges from behind round glasses. “How’s America’s favorite Alpha this evening?” Steve grimaced when he leaned closer.

When Steve refused to respond he stepped away with a huff, scrutinizing him with a gleam in his eye that made Steve’s skin crawl. After a moment he nodded and disappeared behind the chair again. A screech of metal on metal sounded and he reappeared, pushing a small cart in front of him. Stopping it next to the chair he began to carefully place syringes, bottles, and needles of different sizes across the top of the cart.

“Now, have you had anything to eat or drink recently? That could negatively impact the drug's effect on you and we don’t want that do we?” he asked, fingers dancing across the different objects on the cart before selecting and attaching a long, thin needle to one of the larger syringes,  glancing at Steve out of the corner of his eye and smirking at his own joke. Steve kept his gaze locked firmly on the cart, still refusing to speak. The mocking undertone of Zola’s words grated on his nerves but he wouldn’t let it get to him, he was stronger than that.  Zola’s mouth quirked up in a small smirk and he nodded again, sticking the needle of the syringe into one of the small bottles marked simply with an “O”. Humming, he tapped the syringe, released a small amount of the fluid into a tray, and grabbed Steve’s arm. Steve tensed at the contact, instinctively trying to pull away but Zola’s firm grip and the restraints kept him still. The glint of the cold, hard needle contrasted with the warm fingers rubbing hard circles in the exposed crook of his elbow. Without warning, Zola pressed the needle deep into Steve’s arm and his entire body stiffened, straining against the metal bars as white-hot pain spread through him. It branched out from his arm to his chest and spilled into the rest of his body, like fire coursing through his veins, and he couldn’t stop an agonized scream from escaping. “Oh yes, I forgot to mention that this might sting a little,” Zola said through a wicked grin, already packing away his supplies.

“What did y’just do?” Steve croaked, words slurring slightly.

“Well, you can’t exactly bond with the Red Skull as an Alpha now can you? There’d be no point,” Zola said, pushing the cart away and patting Steve on the knee as he stood up. The metal door swung shut behind him and, after a moment, the light clicked off, once again submerging Steve in darkness. Isolated, he had no choice but to let Zola’s words cycle through his mind and his eyes widened when he realized the true implication behind the words. He inhaled shakily and squeezed his eyes shut, a few tears leaking out and dripping down his cheek and off his chin to land on his collarbone. They were turning him into an Omega and he was useless to stop it.

~~~~~~

Steve was getting used to the feeling of burning from the inside, was even beginning to like it. It kept him company, filling the emptiness that crept closer and closer to consuming him every day. He’d been in that room for so long he was starting to forget. Peggy’s laugh and the way Bucky pouted slightly when he concentrated were fading. Hell, their faces were becoming blurs at this point. Every now and then little snippets would break through and he could escape into the memory of sleeping over with Bucky when they were six or Peggy teaching him how to dance in their free time, letting them distract him. Now, though, now the fire was overwhelming. Drowning his senses in pain and filling his mind with smoke. The haze remained when the fire left and he could just barely see the small form of Zola in front of him.

Steve, sweaty and with tears still streaming down his face, grimaced.  His pants were uncomfortably damp, sticking to his ass as he shifted a little, trying to figure out what was happening. He sucked in a quiet breath as the smell hit him, it was slick. He was actually producing slick. Zola straightened up at the sound of Steve’s distress and took a deep breath in, scenting the air. A wide grin formed and he scooted his stool closer. Inhaling again, this time with his nose almost shoved into Steve’s neck, he hummed happily.

“Oh, this is excellent, Mr. Rogers. You’re making such good progress,” he said, voice dripping with faux kindness. Steve shivered in disgust when Zola’s fingers traced slow designs down his thigh. Smirking, Zola quickly shoved his hand against Steve’s crotch and pressed down hard, relishing in the pained yowl his efforts earned him. Fresh tears coated Steve’s cheeks and a new layer of horror formed when he felt the straps that restrained his lower body being removed.

“Now, now settle down. We want to make sure you’re actually ready for the surgery, don’t you think?” he asked, shoving a small, hard support under Steve’s hips and forcing them up. “Besides, I don’t think you want to go into your new life unprepared, your first knotting can be quite…shocking, you might say. If you’re used to being open and exposed it makes the transition to bonded life so much easier.” He had been unfastening Steve’s pants as he talked and now he yanked them down to his ankles, completely exposing Steve to the chilly air of the room. Steve whined in the back of his throat and shifted his hips away as best he could, still fighting even though he had nowhere to go. Zola tsked and placed a firm hand on Steve’s quivering stomach, pinning him in place on the support and forcing the hard wood into his skin. With the other hand he went straight for Steve’s genitals, poking and prodding, stretching and spreading. Steve focused on breathing and tried to zone out, delving deep into the recesses of his mind for a good memory. Bucky’s smiling face and a bottle of beer, the flash of fireworks and the warmth of a large body pressed up against him. Soothing laughter, his hair flopping into his face and fingers brushing it back away from his eyes ever so gently. He didn’t even register Zola leaving, the insistent press of his fingers inside Steve’s body vanishing. Chilly air cooling his still exposed legs stole him away from the fond memory, shoving him back into reality and leaving him in a waking nightmare.

~~~~~~

The rattle of a key in a lock once again roused Steve from a restless sleep. Skin-warmed metal moved away from his arms, allowing him to move freely for the first time in days. This time, however, felt different. He couldn’t see any of their usual knives or drugs so they weren’t here to torture him. Confused, he sputtered and flailed weakly when big hands wrapped around his arms from either side and lifted him out of the chair. The men holding him began to drag him to the door, ignoring his protests and attempts to get away. They hadn’t taken him out of this room since they’d first shoved him inside months ago and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what lay beyond the door. He was used to the routine of pain and he definitely didn’t appreciate the sudden change. Whatever they were going to do he was positive it wasn’t good. The door opened and he was pulled out, flinching away from the bright lights that lined the hallway. The prick of a needle at the base of his neck added to his confusion, what were they doing with him?

“Gentlemen,” said Zola from somewhere off to the side. “I believe you were told that it is incredibly important he is in the best condition he can be in for today…within reason of course.” The hands on his arms relaxed their grip slightly a little, letting the blood circulate once more. “Very good, bring him this way please.” He was pulled to the left and as he stumbled down the hall, still adjusting to moving his legs again, the lights started to look fuzzy.  The small form of Zola in front of him began to blur and twist as the shuffling of his feet dragging on the floor and the thuds of the guard’s boots on the ground grew tinny, seemingly far away despite being next to him. Zola opened a door at the very end of the hall and they were greeted with a shiny, empty operating table in the middle of the small room surrounded by carts with sharp tools and strange containers on them. The far too white, toothy smile of a strange man in a lab coat was the last thing Steve saw before everything finally went black.

~~~~~~

The small cot rattled as he shivered in the cold room, pulling his thin blanket closer to his body. Well, he mused, at least he'd upgraded from that godawful chair. A stab of pain flared up when he twisted to try and find a better position. Hissing, he glanced down at his bare abdomen and the already fading scar that lined the skin between his hipbones. It was surreal to think that only a few days ago he had been sliced open and violated. If he was being honest he still couldn’t quite believe it. Even though it was quite clear what had happened - the constant, dull throb in his ass and the slick that soaked his pants was proof enough - he was still in shock. In his mind, he was still an Alpha, knot and all. One hesitant finger was poking gently at the scar when the door opened, revealing the backlit form of one of the guards.

“You have a visitor,” he said gruffly before stepping to the side. Steve raised an eyebrow skeptically. Surely it wasn’t Zola, he’d had his fill of Steve’s new body earlier and he knew he wouldn’t return twice in one day. All thought stopped, however, when one of the strangest looking men stepped into the cramped room. From his feet to his neck he looked like a typical Hydra agent, stiff and intimidating. However, that changed when you looked above his collar. Instead of pink skin there was red muscle and the sharp lines of the man’s bones protruded sharply, stretching the skin thin across his skull. Flat bone was in place of a nose and his eyes were set deep in their sockets, casting dark shadows over his glare. Thin beyond belief lips formed a displeased frown. This must be the Red Skull, Steve guessed. This must be the man he had been fighting against before he was taken.

“It looks thin,” was the first thing he said, casting a displeased glance over Steve’s half-exposed body. Instinctively, Steve moved to cover his crotch but stopped when the Red Skull shook his head, gesturing at one of the guards to move forward. “Restrain it, I won’t be able to get a good look if it keeps covering everything.” Steve’s lip curled at the derogatory tone, even as the blanket he had been clinging too was tossed away and his hands were forced behind him and fastened with cold, tight metal cuffs that cut at his skin. “That attitude will have to go. I can’t have a resistant bedmate. That will make things so much more…difficult,” the Red Skull said slowly, stepping forward and pushing Steve’s chin up with a harsh shove, twisting his head this way and that.

“Not to worry, Herr Schmidt. He’s already in the beginning of his heat and when it hits in full force he’ll be perfectly agreeable, it will be like he’s a completely different person,” Zola said, simpering, kiss ass tone causing Steve to roll his eyes in exasperation.

“Good, good,” Schmidt said with a smile that exposed blindingly white teeth. In Steve’s eyes they seemed like fangs and he could almost feel them biting into his flesh and tearing it away, leaving him bloody and raw. Black-gloved fingers trailed down Steve’s neck, pressing hard on the place Steve knew the mating bite would be, he shuddered a little at the idea of being forced to mate with a man who thought of him as just an object. Down and down the fingers went, tracing the outlines of abs that were quickly disappearing from the lack of food and exercise and lingering on the scar, pressing down and eliciting a whimper from Steve. Schmidt pressed a little harder before moving even further south, shaking his head when he reached the waistband of the threadbare pants that barely fit Steve. “We’ll have to do away with these, hm?” he said, phrasing it as a question even though the look in his eyes showed he wasn’t asking. Steve’s eyes widened and he shook his head hard, protests muffled by the hand of a guard that was now pressed over his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt the fabric tear against his skin as the pants were torn away leaving him completely bare to the eyes of everyone in the small cell. Schmidt flipped him over and began to look over the rest of what was soon to be his. Steve tried to find a memory that he hadn’t used before, one to take him away but nothing worked, he was stranded in the present and he couldn’t get away from the awful reality that was Schmidt and his polluting existence.

~~~~~~

Zola had said that the serum would make his heat come faster than it would for others considering he had been in pre-heat almost immediately after surgery, but Steve hadn’t expected it to come _this_ fast. Four days after the surgery a rush of need had woken Steve from his sleep, throwing him straight into the heat with barely any warning besides the constant trickle of slick that he had thought was normal. His skin itched and he writhed on the thin mattress, desperate to get any relief. The more he moved the more he became tangled in the thin sheet and the more frustrated he became. Every slide of rough fabric against sensitive, sweaty skin filled him with more confusion and want. Nothing was where it was supposed to be, he wasn’t with the one person he wanted to be with, and he was losing control over his body at a faster pace than ever. The worst part of it all was the fear, the fear of what was to come when Zola and Schmidt discovered he was finally in full heat, when he would be forever shackled to one of the worst people imaginable, the fear that he would never see Bucky again, never again be surrounded by strong arms and the smell of home. Steve had never been this scared before. Sure, he had been nervous and a little afraid when he was caught in the occasional scuffle in the back of an alley but he had never had felt fear right down to his bones like he did now. This was all new territory and he was about to lose any chance to explore it on his own, along with any personal freedom he had had before.   

The door clicked open and Zola’s shiny brown shoes tapped along the dirty floor towards Steve’s cot. To Steve’s horror his body leaned towards the Beta, instinctively searching out contact and relief.

“I appreciate the gesture, Omega, but I’m not the one you really need,” Zola said faux soothingly, stroking a finger down the curves of Steve’s face, ending with a pat on the cheek before moving away. Steve tried to protest, to say that no, he didn’t want this, but nothing came out but an embarrassingly needy whine. “Yes, yes. Don’t worry you’ll soon be full and complacent and then this won’t be such a problem.” One of the guard’s large arms slipped under Steve’s shaking body and lifted him almost effortlessly, displaying just how much weight and muscle Steve had lost during his time in Schmidt’s cells. As they walked down the hallway he twisted his body as far away from the guard he could get without falling to the floor, trying not to think about what was about to happen.

They carried him to and dropped him in a bed in the middle of a large, luxurious room and left, shutting the door firmly behind them. He swore he heard the lock click but that would be a ridiculous measure, he could barely roll over of his own accord let alone run out the door and escape the base. He groaned at the strange feeling of soft, silky sheets around his limbs, twitching experimentally to make the sheets slide along his skin.

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” Steve froze at the sound of Schmidt’s voice from the other side of the room. He approached, the scent of Alpha overwhelming but not in a good way. Unlike Bucky, Schmidt smelled sour, like citrus that had been left on the ground for too long. It filled the air, making Steve gag even as he resisted the strong urge to present, forcing his body to lay still on the mattress. Noticing this, Schmidt growled a deep, resounding growl that just made the fire of need burn brighter in Steve’s body against his will. He curled his fingers in the sheets and shifted away when Schmidt approached and yanked off his gloves, tossing them to the side before beginning to undo the buttons of his uniform. “Oh no, this is going to get done so don’t try anything. Besides, you’ll feel better once we bond, the heat will be less intense and you can stop whimpering like a bitch.” He punctuated his statement by undoing the last button on his jacket and pulling it off, striding towards the bed. The only thing Steve remembered vividly from that night was the pain of Schmidt’s teeth sinking into his shoulder, binding them together, and the unfamiliar and unwelcome intrusion of his knot.

~~~~~~

A month later found Steve sitting in the same bed Schmidt had claimed him on, staring at the far wall and waiting for Schmidt to return. The slam of a door opening made Steve jump in surprise. Turning, he shrank back a little from the sight before him: Schmidt seething and barely able to contain himself. He stalked forward and grabbed Steve’s jaw like he had so many times before, pulling his face close.

“Do you want to know what Zola just told me?” Steve was barely able to move his head in Schmidt’s iron grip so he grunted instead, hoping it sounded enough like a “No” to suffice. “He told me that my knot hasn’t taken,” Schmidt growled, releasing Steve with a shove that pushed him off his cot and sent him crashing to the floor. He resisted the urge to groan, knowing that would only make Schmidt angrier. “Zola swore to me that you would be ready and fertile after the surgery so my question is: does the blame lie with his procedure? Or you?” He knelt next to Steve and brushed his gloved fingers over the mating mark that scarred Steve’s neck, pressing down with his fingertips and humming approvingly when Steve jerked, a dribble of slick leaking out against his will. Shit, that meant his body recognized him as its mate. This could make breaking the bond so much more painful if he ever got the chance.

“May-maybe you’re the problem you bastard,” Steve said, voice raspy with disuse. Swallowing, he watched Schmidt’s face carefully, feeling slightly smug at the shocked confusion that crossed his face. That confusion, however, was gone in the blink of an eye and replaced with pure anger. Rearing back, Schmidt struck him hard across the face, fingers bent so that they dragged along Steve’s skin and pulled, far too close to his eye for comfort. Steve inhaled sharply and bit back a cry; he could feel the crack in his jaw and the serum working to heal it.

“How _dare_ you,” Schmidt growled, pulling him up by his hair. “I was hoping your pretty skin could stay fairly unharmed but it looks like you need a lesson, Omega.” He dragged him to the door and out, down a hallway that Steve remembered well. They had taken him this way many times when they had first grabbed him, this was the hell before the chair, the small, cold room that never seemed to be fully clean, the scent of blood and rust seeping into every crevice and polluting every breath he took. He remembered the feeling of the knives and the needles, the heat of scorching metal pressing into and through his flesh and the bite of leather as it flayed the skin from his back relentlessly. The physical reminders had healed but the memories remained, flooding up from whatever place in the recesses of his mind he had hidden them the further he was pulled.

Steve was pushed inside where he stumbled and slammed into a pile of chains, groaning at the impact. One of the guards that stood outside his door at night was waiting, already covered in a coat and gloves to prevent blood getting on his skin.

“Hopefully that attitude will be gone when I return. Ziegler, do what you must to make him more…agreeable.” Schmidt stalked out, adjusting his uniform and waving dismissively at the guard to get a move on. Steve sneered at Schmidt’s retreating form but stopped when an irritated grunt came from Ziegler, Steve's least favorite of the doctors Hydra kept on staff. He glanced over at him and his heart beat a little faster when he saw the thin, tapered knife he was twirling. Behind the surgical mask, his cheeks were pushed up as if he was smiling despite the fact that his eyes were cold and clinical, assessing Steve, looking for the perfect place for the first slice.

It didn’t take long after that for Ziegler to really get going, pulling out instruments Steve didn’t even know existed. At least, he thought to himself in the less painful moments when his head was clear enough for rational thought, I can bring back reports of the torture devices Hydra has access to. Detailed reports at that, he added, mouth opening in a wordless cry and spine arching off the table he had been strapped to when a thin piece of metal slid through the gap between two ribs and was run through with an electrical current that made his entire body convulse in agony. It was pulled out after a few seconds and Steve was left spasming and drifting in and out of consciousness on the cold, damp metal. Blood streaked his bare chest and the table rattled with each movement he made, filling the eerily silent room. Ziegler had yet to say a word but the smile hadn’t left his face since they started, scaring Steve more than any of the tools that were meticulously placed around the room. He pulled out what looked like a drill and considered it for a moment but was, thankfully, distracted by sounds of yelling and crashing from outside. Putting the drill aside, he walked to the door and, glancing back at Steve to make sure he was secure, slipped out into the hallway. Seconds later a gunshot sounded and a body hit the door, smearing blood along the glass window as it slid to the floor. Body lit up in pain from his wounds, Steve pulled weakly at the thick leather straps, trying to get free before the approaching figures could come inside. The motions made him even more disoriented and he let his head fall back to the table with a soft thump, heavy-lidded eyes watching the door with trepidation, closing when he heard the door click open. He heard it swing open and the clomping of heavy boots entering the room and then silence before the person spoke.

“Holy shit,” they muttered before calling to someone outside, “Dugan, I found him! Get your ass over here!” Steve recognized that voice, he realized. That was Peggy. They had found him. he was free.

He was free.

~~~~~~

The dramatic shift in temperature roused him for a time when they took him out of Hydra’s base, the freezing air hitting his overheated skin like thousands of needles. The sweat from his preheat-addled body cooled, quickly making his skin clammy. He shivered violently, teeth clacking against each other and limbs shaking in the arms of Dugan who was running towards the plane, jostling Steve more. He would have laughed at the nonsense apologies that were spilling out of Dugan’s mouth if they didn’t sound so terrified and he wasn’t so delirious. His eyes slipped closed in exhaustion from the shivering and the last thing he heard before he slipped under was Dugan’s boots ringing on the metal floor of the plane.

Steve was only conscious in short flashes while they took him back home. He felt  gentle hands placing him on a soft cot and covering him with a blanket, the shuddery ride of a plane flying through bad weather, the prick of a needle which made him whimper and try to push it away until he drifted away again, heard hushed voices whispering quickly: “I’m going to kill-” “Bucky no.” “Those bastards got what they deserved.” “Hey, Stevie, we missed you.” “Please wake up it’s terrible without…” “I need you, don’t go.”

~~~~~~

Steve drifted in and out for almost two weeks after they returned and he was placed in the hospital, giving the nurses hell when he was awake, resisting any and all needles and flinching away from any touch below the waist. He was awake for longer and longer periods and the longer he was awake the more frustrated he became. The pitying looks he was given by the nurses did nothing to help him control his emotions. He almost snapped when one spoke to him in a cooing sort of tone, treating him like a child. He had tried to politely interrupt her but every time he spoke she just patted him on the shoulder and told him that everything’d be fine; he could almost hear the other nurses telling her to “make sure the Omega stays calm and sedated, don’t rile him up it could be messy.” He finally resorted to growling at her, successfully scaring her off. But, unfortunately, it only made the whispers grow in volume.

It all came to a head when Steve was walking down the hall outside his room, stretching his stiff muscles which were almost screaming with disuse. He was tired of feeling like a rusted tin man, every movement stilted and awkward and joints creaking when he stood. At 26 he shouldn’t feel this old and it was disheartening. Even though he knew the serum was almost done healing him he could still feel the knives and hot brands on his skin, the physical evidence gone but the scars still marring his mind. He paused by a door to rest for a moment, still weak from lack of nutrients and exercise and heard hushed murmurs from inside. Leaning closer he heard the voices of three of the nurses that were caring for him.

“That poor Omega, what he’s been through…” 

“Don’t you recognize him, Betty? That’s Captain America, I thought he was an Alpha!”

“Me too. But how did he change?”

“Well, you can’t tell anyone, but I’ve heard that he was captured by Nazis and they did some _twisted_ experimentation on him and now he’s an Omega.” Here, Steve could hear a gleeful smile in her voice.

A more sympathetic nurse spoke up, “Oh no that’s horrible, that poor man! Is that where his bond mark came from?” A pause, and then, “I hope not…”

The serious tone in her voice silenced the others before the one who seemed to enjoy Steve’s pain spoke up again, “He couldn’t have been much of an Alpha if it was that easy to make him into an…Omega.” Giggling erupted from the other nurses and Steve cringed at the disdain she packed into the word, treating it like a disease she barely dared mention for fear it would infect her. He wasn’t surprised. Most nurses were Betas so their pheromones wouldn’t rile up any patients and they tended to have superiority complexes, taking every opportunity to put down Omegas.

The giggling subsided and silence followed, interrupted by one girl saying, “All I have to say is I’m glad I’m not in his place, imagine suddenly becoming utterly useless. That’s the most horrifying part of all this.” He could sense that this was one of the ones who was kinder towards him but the words still stung like a slap in the face. They weren’t wrong. Who was he to be acting like he had any real rights anymore? Those had gone with his first heat. Truly, they had gone the second Zola put that first dose of “O” into his bloodstream but he was still pretending that everything HYDRA had done hadn’t happened.  He would have been able to convince himself and live in blissful denial for the rest of his life if it weren’t for the fact that his heat still lingered, contaminating his scent like it always did and making it smell like rotting honeycomb, bitter with an undertone of sweetness that always made Steve want to throw up. Schmidt’s mark throbbed with his pulse, reminding him of the bond that was breaking between him and the Red Skull which just added to his sore body. He had known before that breaking a bond with someone was a terrible experience from watching his mother go through it after his father’s death but he had never expected it to be like this. The mark sent pulses of pain along his shoulders and neck, headaches flared up unexpectedly and his heart was never steady, always frantic and leaping in his chest. Almost every minute was spent concentrating on not hyperventilating. The rate at which the bond had been breaking seemed to be slowing down, however.

 Hopefully that was a signal that it was finishing and he was almost free.

The doorknob next to him rattled, startling him out of his thoughts and making him swear under his breath. He hurried back to his room, which was thankfully only a few feet away, and practically fell inside as the door down the hall opened behind him. The chatter of the nurses got louder and then more distant as they exited and walked away. Breathing a sigh of relief at not having been caught, he sank back down on the bed, clutching the thin blanket that was eerily similar to the bedding on that horrible cot so hard he could feel it tear in his grip. He tried to tell himself they didn’t know anything, they were just girls who liked gossip a little too much, but their words wouldn’t leave him alone. All through the night every time he tried to sleep the words ran through his head, dripping with poisonous malice. Useless, they called him, _Omega_. No matter how he said the word it sounded like an insult. No one who had called him that meant it well: Zola, Schmidt, and now the nurses. He tried to imagine Bucky saying it to see if that would help but seeing Bucky’s mouth twist into a sneer around that damned word almost sent him into a panic. He couldn’t take it if Bucky was disgusted with him now too. This continued for days, a spiral of dark thoughts that was almost dizzying with how fast it tugged him off the thin ledge of control, pulling him deeper into the despair.

~~~~~~

The last night before he was released was not a good one. Hell, none of the nights had been good but this one was worse. All of the fears about living life as an Omega and how the people close to and around him would react hit him like a freight train, hard and fast and unrelenting. With those fears came the memories of his torture, the ones that he had been successfully repressing until then. All together they made a dangerous cocktail that he was sure would be what did him in.

Eventually, he drifted into a troubled sleep, flashes of red blood and silver needles painting the insides of his eyelids and dripping into his dreams.

He only remembered a sharp pain and the feeling of a string snapping in his mind that night as the person who had been holding it taught dropped it. He remembered sitting up and gasping, pressing a hand to his neck and recoiling when it came back bloody. He remembered the bond breaking with all the finality he could have dreamed of. 

~~~~~~

When he was released from the hospital he found himself walking straight to his old apartment. He couldn't offer his services back up to the war effort - not that they'd want him - since the war was over, had ended while he was stuck in a hospital bed, useless as his friends won a war he'd worked so hard to win. He had no idea where Bucky was, he hadn't heard anything about where Peggy was working now, and he knew he couldn't go back his old haunts like the bar or the pool hall, it wasn't a safe environment for Omegas and they all knew him, he wasn't ready to confront the world with this change quite yet. Knowing this he just went home, fully prepared to hide from the world forever.

The soft click of a door shutting shattered the silence of the small apartment, making Steve flinch as he stepped inside. He could feel the dust on his fingertips from the doorknob and he wiped it on his pants, looking around at the bare walls of the foyer. He had shut the door on his and his mother’s apartment when he left for the army and hadn’t opened it until now, almost a year later, and it showed. Cobwebs were thick in the corners and the vibrant wallpaper was faded, pale roses intertwined around cracks in crumbling plaster. As he walked to his old room to find some clothes that didn’t smell of the hospital he passed his mother’s room. Stopping, he swore he could still smell traces of her perfume and his gaze lingered on the small box of makeup on a rickety wooden table with a dirty mirror fastened to the wall above it. Half-empty jars of creams and tubes of lipstick peeked out of the top of the box, their labels worn from fingers constantly brushing against them. He steadied himself and ran his fingers gingerly along the lids of the containers and swallowed hard as he remembered how long she had saved to get them.

“Remember, Stevie, nothing isn’t worth a little hard work if it makes you happy,” she had said, words slightly muffled by the lipstick that had been pressed to her top lip. He remembered sitting on her bed, watching her apply her makeup with a practiced hand, a pleased look on her face. Now that bed was gone, thrown out because it had been contaminated with tuberculosis, and the room was almost empty save for the desk and a few books and magazines in the corner. The dull floorboards felt like they were slowly growing around the soles of his feet and anchoring him there with his hands hanging limply at his sides and familiar tears from a long time ago returning to his eyes. Shaking his head he turned quickly and practically ran to his room, yanking a white shirt from a creaky drawer and shoving his face in the cloth, using the musty but clean smell to bring him back to reality.

His mother was gone, Bucky hadn’t been there when he had been discharged from the hospital, he had basically been kicked out of the army, and his life as he knew it was over. This was where he needed to be: the now. Remembering what had been would just make everything infinitely worse. He breathed slowly for a minute then tugged the shirt on, sighing at how tight it was around his chest and shoulders even though they were barely there anymore. He picked up the coat he had received in the package of his things they had brought him from his bunk and headed for the door, determined to find some way to distract himself from the barely there pain of his last ties to Schmidt snapping and the overpoweringly empty silence of his apartment.

~~~~~~

Cursing himself for deciding to go out in the freezing cold of Brooklyn Winter with nothing on but a coat he hurried down the street, head ducked low to avoid the biting wind in his face. Spotting the bright lights of the diner he sped up. The warm yellow light spilled out onto the dark ground as a group of women hurried out, pulling their coats and scarves tight around them and laughing as the wind tossed their hair around.

Steve skirted their group and slipped into the diner, sighing happily at the wave of heat that hit him and sitting at the counter. Seconds later a blonde waitress appeared in front of him, large smile on her face and pen at the ready above a small pad of paper.

“Hey hon what can I get for you?” she asked cheerily, curls bouncing slightly as she shifted position, leaning on the cool counter top and looking at him expectantly. He blinked in confusion a few times before pointing at a random item on the menu, hoping it wasn’t something awful. Nodding, she scribbled in the pad before ripping the page out and clipping it to a metal ring and yelling, “Turkey sandwich!” to the men in the kitchen. Turning back to him she slipped the pad into her pocket and asked, “What to drink?”

“Coffee, please,” he said, becoming even more confused when she patted him on the arm nicely before walking away to the coffee machine. She was a Beta but she didn’t see anything like the nurses. Logically, he knew not every Beta was the same, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around one treating him like an equal even though he knew he was being ridiculous. He was sure he was saturated in the scent of Omega and was stunned that it wasn’t scaring her away. She placed the coffee in front of him and pushed it close.

“I put a little extra in there, you look like you need it,” she whispered conspiratorially before grinning and turning to another customer. Steve smiled a little into his coffee cup and took a large gulp, humming as the warm liquid went down his throat.

Steve stayed in that seat for the next while, enjoying his sandwich and watching as the last of the customers trickled out, calling goodbyes to the waitresses and other customers as they went away to their separate homes and lives. Suddenly a rag appeared in the corner of his vision, swirling along the counter as the waitress from before inched closer to where he was seated, eyeing him up as she went. He raised an eyebrow at her when she peeked over at him and she quickly looked back down, flushing lightly. The stool Steve was sitting on was at the end of the bar so she stopped right in front of him, dropping the rag into a bucket underneath the counter.

“So.”

“So?” Steve asked, putting down his cup and waiting for a response.

“You, sir, look sad. I don’t like it when my customers are sad,” she said, cocking her head to one side and looking at him expectantly. When he didn’t speak immediately she pursed her lips and said, “I meant that if you want to talk about whatever’s wrong you can, I won’t judge.” Steve swallowed and shifted in his seat nervously, was he really so obvious that a waitress he didn’t know picked up on his feelings so quickly? He was suddenly glad he hadn’t seen Bucky since he’d been rescued if his emotions were so clear on his face.

The waitress seemed to pick up on his discomfort and nodded to herself before sticking out her hand and saying, “Seems like you don’t want to talk, I get it. I’m Angie, sorry if I was a little abrupt.” She smiled happily when he hesitantly shook her outstretched hand.

“I’m Steve.”

“Hi Steve, do you want more coffee?” Angie asked, gesturing to his cup. He nodded and she took it away, refilling it and dancing a little as she waited for the machine to finish.

Steve ended up staying for almost another hour, talking with Angie as she cleaned up the diner. They talked about anything and everything but she never asked what was bothering him again, which he appreciated. Eventually, she put away the last bit of cleaning supplies and turned to him with an apologetic smile.

“You can’t stay here all night, hon. I have to go home and so do you, let’s go.” She grabbed her coat from the back and walked with him to the front door, yelling behind her for someone named Bill to lock up before she stepped out, pulling Steve behind her. They walked a ways down the sidewalk before they reached a corner. She hugged him gently and Steve sucked in a sharp breath at the first touch in weeks that hadn’t been clinical. “Take care of yourself,” she whispered and moved back, turning and walking down the street, waving at him and yelling, “Next time you stop by the diner there just might be some coffee waiting for you!” He shook his head and grinned, waving back.

On the walk back to his apartment he slowed to a stop, realizing that he had just smiled for the first time in too long and he hadn’t even meant to. Maybe this new friendship would be good for him.

~~~~~~

With the morning came a knock at the door, rousing Steve from a restless sleep. Bleary-eyed he answered the door and froze at the sight before him. Bucky stood in his doorway, shoulders slumped and with deep circles under his eyes, but still Bucky.

“What are you-?”

“Steve,” Bucky started, obviously searching for the right words to say. Finally, he gave up and asked, “Can I come in?” After a moment of thought, Steve opened the door a little wider and walked into the cramped kitchen, pulling out two cups for coffee. His wasn’t as good as the diner’s but it’d have to do.

After they’d both been sitting in silence for too long Steve spoke up again, surprised by how calm his voice was. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you-”

“No. You weren’t there while I was in the hospital and you weren’t there when they released me. The last time I saw you was when I was rescued so tell me right this time, why. Are. You. Here.” Bucky’s eyes widened at the anger that was radiating from Steve. Steve’s expression had remained placid but he could feel all the pent up emotions bursting at his seams that had started ripping the second Bucky appeared on his doorstep.

“I tried to be there, I did,” Bucky insisted. “After we delivered you to the hospital Peggy and I went back and finished up the mess we had left the rest of the Commandos with. When we came back I tried to see you but the nurses wouldn’t let me. They claimed that my Alpha scent would “distress you” or some bullshit like that. I kept coming back until they eventually said they would ban me if I showed up one more time.” Steve fought to keep the surprise from his face. Bucky had tried to see him?

A quiet, “Oh,” was all he managed to get out, gripping the mug in his hands so hard he was afraid it might shatter. Bucky nodded before stopping with his cup halfway to his lips. Slowly he lowered it and eyed Steve with suspicion.

“Did you think I didn’t want to see you?” he questioned, putting the cup down softly. Steve looked away, not wanting to respond. “You did, didn’t you? Stevie…,” he stood from his chair and walked over to stand in front of Steve. He carefully took the cup out of Steve’s death grip and set it aside before crossing his arms with a soft and concerned expression on his face that Steve couldn’t understand. “Why on earth would you think that, you of all people know I wouldn’t  do that to you.” Frowning, he uncrossed his arms and stepped closer. “You do know I care about you.”

“Well, I-”

“ _Steve_.”

Steve startled at the hurt in Bucky’s tone and looked up, accidentally locking eyes with Bucky. The sad look in his eyes felt like a knife to the gut and he swallowed nervously, unsure of how to fix whatever he had just messed up.

“I just thought that, since I’m not,” at this he gestured to himself in frustration, “ _right_ anymore, you wouldn’t want to be around me anymore. Which I totally understand! I sure wouldn’t want someone as fucked up as me. I’d just be a burden-!” Bucky’s fist slamming into the wood of the kitchen table shocked Steve into silence, his angry breaths filling the sudden silence.

“I hope you didn’t break that,” Steve said quietly, wide-eyed gaze fixed on the spot where Bucky’s shaking fist was seemingly stuck to the rickety table. Bucky choked out a breathless laugh and pulled his fist away, stuffing it into his coat pocket while his other hand ran through his messy hair. Strange, Steve thought distractedly, Bucky was usually much more put together than this.

“Fuck. You just told me that I should be disgusted with you because you’re an Omega now and you’re worried about the _table_?! Christ, Stevie…” He shook his head disbelievingly, staring at Steve like he had never seen him before. Stepping closer he reached out to touch Steve’s shoulder but Steve jerked out of reach, shaking his head and stepping away.

“You need to leave, now.” Steve’s voice was shaky, any previous bravado gone, but he tried to keep it steady. Bucky looked even more confused now, expression vaguely resembling a hurt puppy and Steve would have laughed if he hadn’t been panicking. When Bucky didn’t go for the door Steve shouted, “Go!” and he jumped before finally leaving. With one last look back into the apartment Bucky shut the door behind him and Steve didn’t move until he couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore.

Steve didn’t leave the kitchen for the rest of the night. Instead he stayed on the floor where he had at one point during the night slid down the wall to a sitting position, knees giving way and dropping him to the cold floorboards that creaked under his weight. Bucky’s words kept swirling in his head. He couldn’t bring himself to believe that Bucky still cared but little seeds of doubt had taken root, spreading into and growing over the image he’d had in his head of Bucky’s reaction to Steve’s…situation. The cup of coffee Bucky had left on the table grew cold, almost freezing by the time the morning light filtered through the thin curtains over the small, grimy window over the sink.

Steve didn’t stand back up until the sun’s harsh rays filled the small kitchen, putting his huddled body on display. He looked smaller than ever, his arms wrapped tight around his legs which were pulled close to his chest. Blond hair stuck up from the middle of the ring his arms made and his neck was exposed, the skin pale from going so long without being exposed to any sun and the old bond mark pale but still a prominent disfigurement.

Eventually he began to slowly unfold himself, inch by painful inch. Each layer of himself he peeled away made his joints scream in agony, complaining against being forced to hold the same position for hours. They had just gotten used to being able to move freely without the restraints of the Chair and they were not agreeable to suddenly reverting back to that state. With hands pressing firmly on the old wood floor he pushed himself up and gasped at the feeling of the blood rushing back to his legs. He wobbled and gripped the table but it buckled under his weight, finally succumbing to old age and crashing to the floor. Steve could feel splinters that had lodged themselves deep inside the pads of his fingertips but he ignored them in favor of leaning against the wall and catching his breath.

The night had been an emotionally taxing one. He cried most of his tears early on, getting it all out quickly which left him the rest of the night to think. Most of it was spent obsessing over Bucky and what had happened. It was obvious that Steve had just ruined everything. Besides, who would want to be around someone this unstable? It couldn’t be safe. He had done the right thing by making him leave, surely.

Carefully, he pushed himself off the wall and walked towards his room, determined to change into a shirt that wasn’t stiff with tears before doing anything else. He was halfway there when he stopped and looked down, his foot suddenly cold and damp. Lifting up his foot he saw a large damp spot on his sock with bits of something broken around it. He looked back towards the ruins of the table and saw Bucky’s cup where it had shattered on the floor. Ice cold coffee was splashed all over the floor and streams of it ran in the cracks between the floorboards. Steve hadn’t even noticed. Frowning, he yanked his sock off and pulled the bits of cup out of his foot. Limping slightly, he kept going towards his room, set on getting that shirt that his mother used to say made his eyes shine.

~~~~~~

Days passed and the table stayed in pieces on the floor. The most Steve had done to clean it was to mop up the coffee and sweep up the shards of broken cup. He left the mass of wood where it was, ignoring it and the shadow it cast on the rest of his kitchen.

It wasn’t like he did nothing, he went to the diner and sometimes the gym. The gym was more of an every now and then thing because he had to time it just right so as to avoid the Alphas that frequented it. For some reason, the thought of being surrounded by sweaty, loud Alphas in an enclosed space wasn’t as appealing as one might first think.

The diner was an entirely different problem. He still went in every day but it was harder now. Apparently he was still failing at keeping his emotions under wraps because Angie looked more concerned each time he came in so he eventually started coming on the days she wasn’t working, ordering his coffee and meal from a surly, heavyset woman who didn’t seem happy to be there in the slightest. It didn't help that Angie wouldn't stop talking about a gorgeous Alpha who frequented the diner after work. She called her "English" and Steve was ninety-nine percent sure she meant Peggy, another reason to stay as far away as possible. He convinced himself this was fine, he was fine. He didn’t need any reminders of his old life, what he really needed was to start over, get back on his feet on his own. He really didn’t need them. Honestly.

Unfortunately, his plans were thrown straight out the window when Peggy knocked on his door on one of the coldest mornings yet. He opened the door in the middle of a knock.

“Steven Grant Rogers I cannot believe you!” she snarled, fist still raised in the air and a furious look on her face.

“I-what?” Steve asked, confused. She gestured towards the inside of his apartment with a raised eyebrow and he moved aside, letting her past and into the warm room, out of the cold. She walked a few steps before coming to a halt, making a surprised sound.

“Steve, what in the-”

“It, uh, it broke,” he said quietly. She turned and stared at him, crossing her arms.

“When did it break?”

“Why?”

“Answer me. When did it break?”

“…A few days ago.” She exhaled sharply, stepping closer.

“I’m concerned for you. That’s why I came. You’ve been avoiding me, Bucky, and Angie and it’s worrying, especially if you’ve been living in this mess for so long…” she said, confirming his suspicions and glancing around the apartment as she did so, taking in the cracks in the plaster, the window that wouldn’t fully close, and the dirt that stuck stubbornly to the corners and crevices. Steve looked with her and cringed inwardly, wary of what she would say next.

“You can’t stay like this, it won’t do anything to help you move on.”

“I’m doing fine, I promise.”

“Steve,” she said kindly, touching his arm. “Look at this place. Look at you. This isn’t “fine,” this is “barely functioning.” I know this isn’t easy but you need to try, you’ll never know if things will work out if you don’t try.” He swallowed nervously, pulling away from her touch and stepping back. He knew she was right but he didn’t want to admit it. It was easier the way he had been going, simpler. He didn’t have to discuss what had happened or face any of it. The night after Bucky had visited had been quite enough of facing reality for him. They stood there for a while, Peggy scrutinizing him until she nodded determinedly. “Right. Let’s go down to the diner I hear they have a new topping for the pancakes. More fruit, I think.” She took his hand and gently tugged him towards the door. Turning to him she said, “Let’s go try it out, hm? Give it a chance?” He tilted his head in confusion for a moment, still processing everything until it finally clicked. It was Angie’s shift tonight.

“Oh,” he said softly. She pulled on his hand a little harder but she smiled at his realization.

“Come on,” she leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “I told Angie to have a cup of coffee ready and waiting.”

~~~~~~

“You, Mister, have a lot of explaining to do,” Angie said, pouting as she put the hot cup of coffee in front of him. “The girl who lives below me had a guy over last night and got kicked out of the building and you weren’t here for me to tell!” Her words seemed flippant but Steve could hear the hurt behind them. He patted her hand and gave her a little crooked and apologetic smile.

“Well, I’m here now so you can fill me in on everything I’ve missed.” Beaming, Angie eagerly started telling him all about how awful it was to be in the room when the girl was told to leave. He took a sip of coffee and peeked over at Peggy from the corner of his eye, smirking into the cup when he saw how focused she was. She looked for all the world like Angie could be talking about dead fish and it would be the most beautiful thing she had heard all day.

Hours later they left the diner, Angie giving them both huge hugs.  If she held Peggy a little longer than Steve then, well, no one would have to know. At least not until they started walking away.

“So, you and Angie huh?” Steve asked, hands shoved deep in his pockets as they hurried down the sidewalk.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He gave her a skeptical look and she frowned before sighing and nodding. “Alright, _fine_. Maybe something’s going on but you’ll just have to wait and see if I tell you. Forgive me if I need a little happy distraction from the boorish agents I'm forced to engage with. Besides, you never told me about you and Bucky so why should I talk to you about me and Angie?” Steve came to an abrupt halt, staring at her in shock. Smirking, she patted him on the shoulder. “Canvas tents aren’t soundproof, darling, and you two weren’t exactly quiet.”

“But-but,” he stammered, flush spreading across his cheeks and ears.

“It’s alright, we all decided not to mention it, save you two the embarrassment.”

“The rest of the Commandos know?” he exclaimed incredulously, groaning when she nodded almost gleefully. “And they’re okay with the whole…two Alphas thing?” he asked, eyeing her carefully.

“Why wouldn’t they be, you were obviously happy together and none of us would do anything to stop that. Still wouldn’t, even though the circumstances have changed,” she added none too subtly, smiling smugly at his surprised expression and hugging him before taking the same turn Angie had so many nights ago and walking into the cold dark. He laughed softly before setting off for his own apartment. It wasn’t until he was securely in bed that he realized that that was the first time he’d really laughed in, hell, it had been a long time hadn’t it. He shoved himself down as deep into the thin mattress as he could go and drifted to sleep, only waking up in terror once.

~~~~~~

Things were a little awkward for a while between him and Peggy, her casually dropping hints about talking to Bucky and Steve immediately changing the topic, leaving both parties irritated. This kept going until she finally got up from her chair and pushed him outside, tossing him his coat and gloves, telling him to “just fucking talk to him, Steve. The world won’t explode if you see each other,” and shutting the door in his face. He stood there for a moment before pulling on the clothing she had thrown at him and starting towards the gym, remembering Bucky’s old weekly schedule and hoping that he still followed it as strictly as he had before he'd been drafted.

Secretly, he was glad Peggy had kicked him out. He knew he wasn’t ever going to talk to Bucky if he wasn’t forced to but there was no way he was admitting she was right. Snow crunched under his boots as he walked and it soaked the cuffs of his pants, the chill creeping slowly up his legs the further he went. The walk seemed longer than it had the last few times he had gone to work out, the anticipation of seeing Bucky making him feel tense and his heart beat a little faster with each step.

When he reached the big metal door his heart felt like it was about to jump out of his chest and his palms were damp in his pockets despite the cold air. A wave of anxiety rolled through his body, leaving behind a feeling of nausea. He shook his head to dispel his worries as best he could and opened the door, quietly stepping in and taking a seat on a bench in the corner, content to just watch the various Alphas hit each other and the numerous punching bags and wait for Bucky to show up.

~~~~~~

By the time Bucky walked out of the locker rooms, hands tightly wrapped, Steve had already been leered at by three different Alphas and had almost been approached by two others. He had been about to leave and give Peggy some bullshit excuse when he saw Bucky. He started to stand up and walk over to the bag Bucky was getting ready to pummel when a particularly burly Alpha appeared right in front of him.

“Now why’s such a pretty Omega here alone?” the Alpha asked, giving Steve a grin that did nothing to lessen Steve’s growing panic and irritation, the two feelings mixing and making Steve antsy.

“I need to get by, I’m here to see a friend,” Steve said quietly, glancing over at Bucky and praying that he would look over and notice what was going on. Unfortunately, the gym was too loud for Bucky to hear the strange Alpha and he was a few bags away, other occupied bags blocking him from seeing them.

“You can’t go in there by yourself, they’re like wolves they’ll eat you up...” He trailed off, cold eyes that reminded him too much of the guards at the base for Steve’s comfort looking him up and down hungrily. The Alpha moved closer and braced himself against the wall behind Steve, effectively caging him in. Steve tried to duck under his arm but the Alpha grabbed his jaw in an oh so familiar and hated way and kept him still. “Talk with me a while, I’m sure whoever you’re looking for can wait.”

Steve grimaced when the Alpha’s nostrils flared and he pushed Steve’s head up and to the side, exposing his neck so that he could better smell Steve’s scent. Steve wrenched the Alpha’s hand away from his chin and shoved him back enough that Steve could distance himself from the corner he had been trapped in. Stunned, the Alpha stared at the place Steve had been before turning to face him and growling. He walked forward and reached for Steve, going for his wrist and instead getting a fist to the face. The Alpha shouted in surprise and stumbled back, the noise grabbing the attention of the other Alphas in the gym, including Bucky who left his bag and made his way towards the commotion. He faltered when he saw Steve, only continuing when the strange Alpha roared, “You bitch!” and leaped for Steve. Bucky grabbed him and smashed his fist into his face, sending him to the ground with a thump. By now a crowd had gathered, staring in surprise at Bucky's panting frame and Steve's knuckles that had been bloodied on the Alpha's face. 

Shaking out his hand, Bucky sneered, “Fuck off, asshole. Don’t touch him if he doesn’t want to be touched.” The Alpha only groaned in response and Bucky scoffed and kicked him in the ribs for good measure before stomping off towards the locker rooms again, his entire body telegraphing anger. Eager to escape the whispers that filled the gym Steve followed him, pulling his coat tight as if it could shield him.

Bucky was sitting on the low benches that ran the length of the room, unwrapping his hands. The flecks of blood on the cloth did not escape Steve’s notice but he chose to ignore them.

“I could have handled him,” Steve said, watching Bucky’s body tense up and the way he white-knuckled the wraps before responding.

“I know you could have.” Here he seemed to be grasping for words, not meeting Steve’s eyes. “Just because you could have doesn’t mean you should have had to.”

“I appreciate it but I really didn’t need you to help,” Steve said stubbornly, not letting it go.

“Dammit, Steve, will you just accept help?” Bucky snapped, standing up and slamming the wraps down on the bench. “I haven’t seen you for weeks because you refuse to let me in and the first thing you say to me when I do see you is that I’m a dick for doing what any decent person would do and intervening when you were in danger?!”  He was breathing hard now, glaring daggers at Steve with arms crossed like a barrier across his chest.

“It’s not like that,” Steve muttered, looking away.

“Then what _is_ it like, huh? I haven’t got a straight answer since we brought you back and hell if I’m not going to get one now!”

“You scare me, alright?!” Steve exclaimed, surprising himself with the confession. He hadn’t even told Peggy that, she just thought he was being a coward.

“I what?” Bucky breathed, hurt mingling with the anger, expression mirroring the one he had worn so many nights ago when Steve had shouted him out of his apartment and his life.

“You scare me. I’m scared that you’re going to care about me. I’m scared that I’ll get used to it, used to being cared for and then you’ll leave.  I’m scared that if I try I’ll lose the only thing I want. I’ll lose you, Bucky, and I can’t take that, not on top of everything else.” He was crying now, a hand clamped firmly over his mouth to stop himself from saying more. Bucky stepped back and that, coupled with the shock in his eyes was enough to tell Steve everything. He’d screwed this up yet again, he was right to not want to come. It was fooling himself to think he could have Bucky. Taking a shuddering breath he turned away and started to leave when he heard Bucky run up behind him and suddenly he was turned around and being kissed, Bucky’s hands cupping his face and lips pressing insistently and warmly against his.

They parted and Steve sagged a little against the locker he had been pushed against, panting and wide-eyed.

“I won’t leave. I’ll hold your hand forever if that’s what it takes to convince you I’m here to stay.” He reached out hesitantly, all of a sudden shy, and took Steve’s hand when he nodded, confused. “I just need you to tell me if you want to give me your hand to hold or if you want me to go. I’ve been in love since we were both too young to realize what was happening, what Hydra did doesn’t change any of that. I want you to be mine but I won’t keep going back and forth with you, I can’t. If you want this you have to let me know, have to tell me if you want what we had before back,” he said pleadingly, stroking his thumb along the soft skin on the back of Steve’s hand. A small shudder ran through Steve at the touch and he watched Bucky’s finger for a while, letting the room fill with a heavy silence, the only sounds their shaky breaths.

Finally, after what felt like years, he wrapped his fingers around Bucky’s and gripped his hand firmly, looking up into his eyes and saying, with finality, “If you let go of me I’m going to hit you.” Bucky let out a short and slightly manic laugh and nodded in relief, leaning in and giving Steve a much gentler kiss, one that was oh so familiar, one that was full of promises of a future that they would explore together; heartache and all. A kiss that felt like home.

~~~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, everyone!<3 Comments, kudos, and feedback are always welcome!
> 
> Stalk me on [Tumblr](http://sweaterbarnes.tumblr.com/)
> 
> A/N: I'm leaving it open-ended about the Red Skull on purpose, yes the bond broke but that's all I'm going to say. Feel free to interpret it how you want.


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